


Metafiction

by Maracuya



Series: The Seven Fandoms [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, Metafiction, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to the writers of fanfiction in general and more specifically to my fandom friends. You know why.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own my works of fanfiction/fanart. I do not profit from the stories or drawings, nor would I<br/>ever seek to do so. All credit for characters, plot and settings go to the respective original author or artist.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Metafiction

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the writers of fanfiction in general and more specifically to my fandom friends. You know why.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own my works of fanfiction/fanart. I do not profit from the stories or drawings, nor would I  
> ever seek to do so. All credit for characters, plot and settings go to the respective original author or artist.

  
  
Riiiing!

  
Sandor looked at the clock, confused and angry. He wasn't expecting anyone, so he hurriedly put on some clothes, growled darkly, walked over to the door and opened. A golden-haired man was standing in the corridor that led to the stairway of the house which its inhabitants had dubbed the 'Seven Fandoms'.

  
“Jaime! What's up?”

  
“Sandor, can you lend me a hand?”

  
Sandor blinked.

  
Jaime screwed up his eyes and admitted: “Yeah, yeah, I know, that's an old one. Anyway. Are you very busy?”

  
“Depends. I was in a state of constant arousal, you know. Sansa was just in the middle of practising whether her hands would finally fit around my diamond-hard cock.”

  
Jaime laughed: “Well, diamonds are a girl's best friend. Or amethysts. Bling, bling. But really, you could step into the breeches, pardon, the breach, and help me with a modern fan-AU. You see, Brienne and me, we've booked some bungee jumping arrangement with Lady Stoneheart, so I don't have as much time as usually to do this particular job.”

  
Sandor was surprised.

  
“Won't Cersei be jealous?”

  
Jaime shook his head and answered: “She's off with Robert to some kind of marriage counselling. Good for her. She's been like a psychotic cat of late.”

  
“Golly gosh, wouldn't have ever expected them to give their wedded life a second chance. Though your un-secret threesome was certainly interesting. But back to this modern fan-AU. What is it all about?”

  
Jaime explained: “Well, the title of this one-shot is 'The Wanton Wonton'.”

  
“THE FUCK!?” Sandor retorted. For a moment, black hate was rolling off the taller man.

  
“I know, it sounds weird, but it's only a tin with wonton soup gone on auto-pilot, really, it's a totally legitimate modern AU, the tin all opens by itself, and you have to jump out in all your glory and to show off your wet muscles and the velvety skin of your more private parts with the silky hair and the like. At first, it was meant to be leech soup, pardon, leek soup, but that has already been corrected. And I'm sure the fans will adore your huge hands; I mean – they really look like shovels. And when the people are eating their soup they will be like dogs lapping at their water bowls.”

  
Sandor sighed and rumbled: “I've already had seven appointments with fans this week. I'm so weary. And wary. Does the contract include sticking a candle into someone? I'd rather leave that to Littlefinger, he's the expert there.”

  
Jaime, however, could only smirk and commented: “Littlefinger, my Lord Father and Scrooge McDuck are at a management conference in Duckburg. That aside, if this specific fan story that I've mentioned is not your skin of wine you can also make an ad for a huge ketchup bottle instead. Or for healthy apples. Yum, yum. It's not as if we had only one offer for fandom enactment. That's the good thing. There's such a variety of topics and such a number of opportunities – something you'll get nowhere else. You'll always find an arrangement you like.”

  
BANG!

  
The Kingslayer winced.

  
“What was that?” he asked.

  
From inside the flat he heard Sansa's answer: “Just a loose shutter Jaime! But it's closed now. The fresh air was already giving me the shudders. Won't you come in? It's so cold with all the bad weather outside, and you really don't have to stand there in the open door. Though the stormy sky looks nice, like Sandor's eyes. And the rain is like liquid silver.”

  
“She's being romantic again, if you haven't noticed,” Sandor whispered at Jaime and winked affectionately. “That's why I actually love her. She can be shamelessly romantic where I'm just a cynical blockhead.”  
The Kingslayer laughed and stepped into the flat, which always reminded him of a wolf's den. Or a dog's basket, respectively.

  
He greeted Sansa, who was already pouring him a glass of Arbor gold, and sank onto the sofa in the living room.

  
“How was your week?” he asked the auburn-haired young woman.

  
Sansa smiled and answered: “Very nice! Three lovely fanfics. The ladies who are writing on it nicked their sparse free time to jot down a few lines. It's what I like about the job – these are all private works of love and devotion. And for those women Westerosi isn't even their first language! Now, they're a bit worried they might have made some mistakes, because they didn't have the time for a revision, and they fear that someone might laugh at their works behind their backs.”

  
Jaime shrugged.

  
“Well, they speak and write Westerosi better than I do Valyrian. Father tried to drum some knowledge and deeper insight into my head, but I was only ever good with my sword and with my acid tongue. Wish it would have been the other way round. Must be his and Cersei's influence, too, that I had to learn empathy from Brienne.”

  
“On a completely different note”, Sandor interjected, “have I ever told you? This red priest who has moved in next door is going on my nerves. He feels that he's the one with the right faith and doesn't accept any other attitudes. And he keeps telling me that his numerous disciples prove his point.”

  
Jaime was surprised: “Does he?”

  
Sandor snorted: “Yes. And do you know what I told him the other day? 'You think that numbers mean everything. Eat shit then – billions of flies can't err.'”

  
Jaime exploded with laughter, finally gasping with tears of mirth in his eyes: “Stink is coming!”


End file.
